


9/18

by All_Phlochte_All_The_Time



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comforting Castiel, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 10:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/All_Phlochte_All_The_Time/pseuds/All_Phlochte_All_The_Time
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every September 18, they have what some may call a tradition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	9/18

Every September 17, a heaviness would settle over the group. Every September 17, Sam would cast nervous glances at Dean, afraid that the man would break down before his eyes. Every September 17, Castiel would press an extra kiss to Dean’s lips, his stomach swooping as he thought about the day ahead. Every September 17, Dean would try to continue on normally, but the terrified look in his eyes gave away everything.

Every September 18, they have what some would call a tradition. Every September 18, Sam knows that he should leave them alone. Every September 18, regardless of where they are or what they’re doing, Castiel and Dean close themselves away from the rest of the world. Every September 18, Dean lets the tears flow freely.

They’d awake in each other’s arms, as they did every morning. But on these mornings, neither one would make a move to get out of bed. Dean would take his time waking up, not wanting to face the day ahead; however, he knew that Cas would be there with him. He knew that everything would be okay. Eventually.

Cas would start off their day by kissing Dean softly, cupping his cheek, running his fingers over the hunter’s stubbly jaw. Dean would succumb to Cas and sigh softly, letting himself melt away against Castiel’s body.

Cas would then begin to trail kisses down Dean’s neck. Cas’ lips would seek out the scars covering Dean’s body. He’d press his lips against each scar and mark on Dean’s skin, drawing tears to the hunter’s green eyes. The way Castiel kissed the scars, with such care and such tenderness, was overwhelming. Cas had brought him back from Hell and had rebuilt his body, leaving out the scars he’d acquired over his 27 years. In the years that he’d been out of the pit, Dean’s pure skin was marked up with scars again. Castiel paid special attention to the scars, tracing them with his lips and fingers. Cas wanted Dean to know that he loved him despite the scars. Cas would kiss those scars for a long time, sometimes hours.

Once Castiel had gotten to all of the scars covering Dean’s body, he’d kiss back up to the hunter’s lips, wiping away the tears that had streaked down freckled cheeks. It was then that Dean would clutch Cas and sob into his shoulder, his body shuddering with the intensity of his cries. Castiel would hold Dean close to him, rubbing soothing circles against his back, pressing gentle kisses to his temple. Dean rarely let his emotions get out of check. He rarely cried like this. The tears would stream down his face, fat and heavy as they rolled over his cheeks. Dean’s fingers would come up to fist in Castiel’s soft hair. He would suddenly become afraid that this wasn’t real, that he was still in Hell and that he was still being tortured. The images would flash before his eyes, causing his heart to pound as he moved closer to Castiel.

Cas’ heart ached when Dean was crying in his arms. He wanted to take away Dean’s pain. He hated seeing Dean like this; he hated seeing Dean terrified and broken. Castiel couldn’t do anything but sit there and hold him, softly reassuring him that this was all real. That he was really there for Dean.

After the tears had subsided, Dean would pull away and rest his forehead against Castiel’s, opening his green eyes to stare into blue ones. Cas’ thumbs would come up to wipe away the wet streaks on Dean’s face and he’d pepper kisses against those plump lips, whispering words of comfort.

Usually, the two would fall back asleep for a few hours, drifting in and out of consciousness, switching positions, sharing small murmurs of love. Once they woke up again, Cas would kiss Dean, waking him up from his slumber. Cas would kiss the sleep away, causing Dean to arch up into him, pressing closer to Castiel. Cas knew what would come next.

Dean would whisper into Castiel’s ear, pleading with Cas to make love to him. Dean’s words were always low and soft, and Cas could hear the brokenness in Dean’s voice. Cas would gently lay Dean on his back, his lips once again trailing over Dean’s body.

The passion and tenderness was palpable as Castiel prepped Dean with care, gently sliding lubed fingers in and out of the other man. Dean seemed to be hypersensitive to Castiel’s touches and groans for more would spill from his lips. Castiel would finally position himself over Dean, and the green eyed man would give himself over fully to the blue eyed man.

Castiel’s movements were always slow and full of love. His hands roamed over Dean’s body, his lips either on Dean’s or at his ear, whispering words of encouragement. Dean would arch up off the bed, pressing their bodies together. Castiel’s hand fell against the print on Dean’s arm, which brought a fresh wave of tears to Dean’s eyes. These tears, though, weren’t sad or afraid, these tears were full of happiness and pleasure as Cas continued to move inside him.

The two men would hit their highs together, both groaning out the other’s name, words of love spilling from their lips. They’d collapse in a heap on the bed, Castiel’s hand still pressed against the mark on Dean’s arm.

Once they had regained their breath, Cas’ lips would slide over to his handprint on Dean’s muscled shoulder. He’d kiss the print and Dean would sigh, his eyes fluttering closed. Castiel would murmur softly to him, telling him about the day he first saw Dean’s soul shining in Hell on that September 18 so many years ago.

Castiel would tell Dean about how dark the pit was, lips moving over raised the fingers. He would tell Dean about how his soul shone like a beacon, calling out to Castiel, tongue gently flicking out over the bumpy mark. He would tell Dean about how he gripped the hunter tight and raised him from perdition, teeth nibbling at the reddened skin. He would tell Dean about how their most profound bond formed right then and there, soft kisses pressing against the palm. He would tell Dean about how he’d loved him deeply since that day, lips moving over the skin as he spoke. He would tell Dean about how that love only grew with each passing day, kisses covering every inch of the handprint. 

Dean would watch Castiel the whole time, shivers running down his spine as Cas all but worshipped the print. Once Cas was finished, Dean would pull him in for a kiss, their lips sliding together in a slow dance of passion. 

By then, it was usually dark, and the two would wrap around each other, their limbs tangling as they settled down in bed. Sometimes, they would talk. Sometimes, they would just look at each other. Sometimes, they would exchange kisses. Sometimes, Dean would cry and Cas would hold him close.

Every September 19, everything would be back to normal. Every September 19, nothing would be spoken of the night before. Every September 19, Dean would be back to his bitingly witty banter. Every September 19, Cas and Sam would exchange secret glances, and Cas would nod, signaling that everything had gone well. Every September 19, Dean would look at Cas with so much passion in his green eyes, and Castiel would look back at his Dean with reassurance pouring out from his blue eyes. Every September 19, there were a few extra touches and a few extra I love yous. Every September 19, everything would be okay.


End file.
